Accused
by AAB
Summary: Harm has a few days off but soon finds himself drawn into yet another case
1. Chapter 1

**Accused  
**

 _ **Part 1 – Accused  
**_

 _Saturday morning  
Little village somewhere near the coast in North Carolina  
Gomez Supermarket_  
"I didn't do it!" the boy screamed. "I did not!"  
"Yeah, right!" was the shop owner's incredulous retort. "Just like you didn't shoot Mrs Williams' cat or scared old Mr Jenkins almost to death. Now get lost!"  
Angrily the boy ran off, slamming the shop's door close behind him.  
"What was that about?" Harm asked.  
The shop owner shrugged. "Nothing but trouble with that kid. About a half year ago he and some friends started to terrorize the neighbourhood. There was an incident almost every week, smearing windows, throwing snowballs, making a rude snow man. You could say, just boys' pranks but it got worse. Mrs Griffin almost broke a leg because of them making a slide and not covering it, broken windows, people's cats were shot at, things like that. And now that boy tightened a wire over a footpath nearby and Miss Bennett drove into it and was almost killed."  
"That boy?" Harm said, tilting his head towards the direction the boy had gone off in.  
"Yes. Trial is end of the week."  
"So they can prove he is the culprit?"  
"Naah, if it was that clear, he would have been in juvenile by now. But everyone knows he did it. Little bastard." He changed into the polite salesman again. "But Sir, what can I do for you?"  
"Two bottled waters and two bags of crisps, sea salt and cheese and onions, please. And can you tell me how to find the Blue Bell House Bed and Breakfast?"  
A few moments later Harm left the shop with his purchases and directions how to find his place to stay for the next days.

 _Sunday morning  
Blue Bell House_ _Bed and Breakfast_  
Refreshed Harm awoke, momentarily a bit confused by the unfamiliar surroundings. But then he remembered: he had a few days off and was staying in a bed and breakfast near the coast. A week of sleeping, walking, reading and most of all, relaxing. He could so use that after the busy weeks, correction, months of difficult and tedious investigations and dragging trials.  
He hopped out of bed and disappeared into the bathroom. For a moment he considered skipping shaving but since he didn't like stubbles he quickly slid his razor over his face.  
Then he headed for the small breakfast room his hostess had shown him the previous day.  
"Good morning, Sir. What would you like for breakfast?" the waitress, according to her name tag going by the name of Jayla Hicks, asked.  
"Cereals, please. Whole wheat, if possible. And some fruit."  
"We have bran, whole wheat and muesli, plain or with seeds and nuts. For fruit, you can chose from peaches, pineapple, blue berries, strawberries or melon. Or any combination thereof. Coffee, tea or juice. We have grapefruit and orange juice."  
"I like bran, a mix from blue berries, strawberries and melon, coffee with a splash of milk, no sugar, and a glass of grapefruit juice, please."  
"It will be there in a minute," the waitress promised, leaving it to Harm to pick a table.  
True to her word she was back in minutes, carrying a tray with his order. To his surprise Harm saw she was quickly wiping away a tear. He wondered whether he should ask; after all, it was none of his business. But to his surprise he heard himself ask "What's wrong?"  
The waitress looked caught and embarrassed. For a moment it seemed she was going to tell him to mind his own business, then she said "I'm sorry, Sir. I didn't want to bother you. It's just some family problems."  
"Something I can do to help?"  
"No Sir, unless you're a lawyer."  
For a moment Harm was tempted to lie. After all, he had a few days off, hadn't he, to rest and recharge. But he couldn't.  
"As a matter of fact, I am. A Navy lawyer, that is."  
The woman looked up and there was an expression of hope in her eyes.  
"I know I shouldn't ask you, Sir, but please can you give me some advice? It's about my son."  
Harm supressed a sigh. He shouldn't have said something but now he could just as well at least listen to her. He pointed to a chair.  
"Take a seat."  
Jayla went to pour herself a cup of coffee as well and while Harm ate, she told her story.  
"My name is Jayla Hicks. I'm a widow; my husband died in Iraq, eleven years ago. My son Brandon has no memories of his dad; he was only seven months when Jake fell in battle."  
Harm bit his teeth; fatherless boys were his weak spot and he knew it.  
"It's hard as a single mother to raise a son all on your own," Jayla went on. "He lacks a father figure, a male role model. A couple of months ago he got into trouble. At first nothing but mischief but then things became more serious and someone, an elderly lady got hurt. I already got complaints but this was the straw that broke the camel's back. I made sure he realized what he and his friends were doing and next to losing computer time and being grounded for a week, had him make amends. After that things approved. Not that he became a poster boy overnight, after all he is a boy …" She shrugged. "I'm sure he was no part of it but there were more incidents. Rather innocent ones but also … things were demolished, a cat was shot and a man scared to death, causing him a heart attack. Brandon was accused of being the culprit. He admitted some but he denied ardently the vandalism, the cat and scaring the old man and I believe him. Whatever he may have done, he is not a liar."  
She took a deep breath. "People didn't believe him and it was annoying but not too bad. However, a month ago someone tightened a wire over a footpath and Miss Bennett hit it while driving her mobility scooter. It hit her on the throat and had she been driving a bit faster, it would have done serious harm and might even have killed her." She willed back her tears. "Sir, my son is accused of attempted murder, trial is in five days and his lawyer just called to say that he quits, since Bandon doesn't want to take a plea-bargain. He never believed my son is innocent in the first place."  
Harm heaved a silent sigh; he knew what he had to do.

 _Sunday afternoon  
Jayla and Brandon's home  
_The first cup of tea emptied and the friendly chitchat over, it was time to come to the point.  
"Well, Brandon, tell me what happened. How did you end up in this situation?"  
The boy looked embarrassed.  
"Last year we, me and my friends, that is, well, we were in a bit of trouble."  
"You mean?"  
"They had formed a secret club and were more or less a nuisance to the neighbourhood," Jayla explained. "Taking turns in doing mischief, mostly to impress each other. They dared each other to do more and better 'stunts', or so they called it."  
"But I'm not doing that anymore," Brandon was quick to point out. "But people still think I am."  
"What things did you do? Not you in person but you as a group."  
Brandon shrugged. "We played ding-dong ditch. We smeared windows with soap and candle wax. Or sprayed fake snow on peoples' car windows. We kicked over trashcans. Once we stole clothing from the washing line and used it to dress a scarecrow. Things like that." He looked at his mother. "When mum found out I was in lot of trouble."  
"We, that would be you and?"  
"He and five friends," Jayla told him. "Do you need names?"  
"Not this moment, but later on I will need those names," Harm confirmed.  
"So you were found out. How?"  
Once more Jayla took over "I got complaints from several neighbours, telling me what he had done and demanding action."  
"How did the complainers know it was you?" Harm asked Brandon.  
"Sometimes we were not fast enough and they spotted us and since I was the only black boy …"  
"Do you mean it's racist motivated?" Harm asked alarmed.  
The boy hesitated and considered. "No, I don't think so," he finally said. "I think it's more ... when you have a gang of boys who look very much the same, all white and with fair or light brown hair and all more or less similar clad but one boy stand out for he is a redhead or has a limp or …"  
"Or is black like you, it's easy to say: I don't recognize all of them but I'm sure he, the kid who stands out, was one of them?" Harm filled in. "That's what you mean?"  
"Yes, Sir."  
"Okay. Well, you said you once were a part of that group of boys. When and why did you stop being a member? What happened?"  
"Last winter it was snowing and we made a snow slide. We had lots of fun. I mean, we didn't mean to hurt someone but we didn't think about covering it when we were done and then old Mrs Griffin stepped on it and she slipped and she sprained her ankle. She had to stay at home for two weeks and mum made me go over each day and ask whether she had errands to run. After a few days I stayed each day for a moment to chat and it was then that I learned what our pranks did to people." He shrugged like it was no big deal. "It's not that I never do something anymore. They are still my friends."  
"So you mean you're still into doing some mischief but you're more observant about what the consequences are for other people?"  
"Yes."  
"Okay. What was next?"  
"There was Mrs Williams' cat. It was shot at and again they accused me."  
"Why?"  
"I like shooting, Sir, but I don't have an airgun. I always use a catapult. And I love animals. I would never shoot at them. Not for target practise and not for anything else."  
"You never shoot any animal?"  
"Two or three rats, Sir. But they are filthy and transmit diseases and destroy things."  
"Is there more?"  
"Old Mr. Jenkins. He is a bit …" He looked ad his mother for help. She came to his aid.  
"Mr. Jenkins is a bit, or should I say very, superstitious. He believes in ghosts and bad omens like black cats and broken mirrors and so. Some kids thought it funny to scare him, making ghostly noises and rattling chains and when he finally dared to come out to investigate, they released a black cat and had made sure there were smithereens of a broken mirror on the footpath for him to see. One of them had dressed up with a sheet and gave him quiet a fright. They almost caused him a heart attack."  
"You had no part in it?"  
"No, but I was in the neighbourhood. Mum sent me out to buy some milk and the shop is …"  
"The supermarket is only a block away. By a back alley it's no more than a minute or so," his mum took over once more. "People saw him at the shop and said it would have been easy for him to participate."  
"But you were not?" Harm scrutinized the boy's face for sighs he was lying but Brandon straightened his shoulders.  
"No, Sir."  
By now Jayla got angry. "You don't believe my son?" she wanted to know.  
"I do," Harm stated calmly. "But at the trial the prosecution will do anything to attack his credibility and make him incriminate himself."  
"What does that mean? He will be under oath, won't he, and so will the other witnesses?"  
"Yes, he will. But that doesn't necessarily mean the prosecution will believe him. Or won't do everything to make the jury disbelieve him. Instead they most likely will try to discredit him and throw him some loaded questions. Like about Mrs Williams' cat. They might ask you if you ever touched the cat. Not 'Did you shoot it?' or 'Did you hurt it?' but 'Did you touch it?' The moment you say no, they produce a witness who saw you pet the cat. When you protest, saying you meant you never harmed the cat, they will say they asked 'touch' and not 'harm'."  
"That's devious!" the shocked mother cried out.  
"It is. And it's common practice. If you think I'm giving your son a hard time, wait till the trial. That's why it's so important I know everything. About previous incidents and about this one. And why I need to prepare you."  
Visibly shaken Brandon nodded.  
"Right. Anything more they accuse you off? Things you did and things you didn't, please." Harm had to hide a smile. He so could relate to the boy; after all, many of those things he had done himself, with friends either in his own hometown or during vacations at his grandmother's farm.  
"There was Miss Windermere's greenhouse but I wasn't there. And the snowman. She was very upset about it."  
"What snowman?"  
"Well … do I have to call names?"  
"I'm afraid so," Harm quietly said. The boy had to understand how serious the trouble was he was in. This was no time to protect his friends.  
Brandon shrugged. "Thom and Ricky and Peter and two others, I don't know who, were throwing snowballs at Miss Windermere's greenhouse and they broke a window. They were caught and Miss Windermere and her neighbour yelled at them. They are a couple of old tarts." His mum gave a warning cough.  
"Sorry, Sir. The next day they went back and made a large snowman. But instead of a carrot for his nose they used the carrot and two potatoes for … well, they placed them somewhere else on the snowman." He grinned. "Peter told Miss Windermere and Miss Alcott were very shocked when they saw it."  
Harm bit his lip. He felt the corners of his mouth twitch.  
"That is not nice," he said nevertheless.  
Jayla stood and poured another cup of tea. There was a short moment of respite and then Harm came to the most important subject.  
"Right. What did you do the day the wire was tightened? In as much detail as you remember."  
"I didn't have school so I decided to go over to Miss Julia to see if I could help her."  
"Who is Miss Julia?"  
Jayla answered "An elderly lady, living just outside the village. She has been living here all her live. She used to be the schoolteacher but she retired five years ago. I don't think you will find many people, natives that is, who haven't been under her care one year or another. After she quit teaching she started an animal sanctuary. She is very outspoken. Some people, mostly people who didn't grow up here, call her a crazy cat lady."  
"She is not," Brandon said angrily. "She is not crazy and she helps all animals."  
"I know," his mum soothed. "But Mr Rabb has to ask."  
"Your mum is right. But go on, what time did you go to Miss Julia?"  
"About 8.30. I was on my bike. When I was almost halfway, I heard a dog. She was barking and whining and yelping. You could hear something was wrong. So I followed the noise and that's when I found her. She was trapped in a snare and her paw was bleeding from trying to pull herself free. There were two puppies with her."  
"What did you do?"  
"I couldn't touch her; she was so upset. I went back to the road, hoping I could stop someone to help me. That's when I saw Mr. Bailey. I waved him down and he was willing to come with me. He took the bench out of the car and followed me to the dog. There he helped me free her and catch the puppies."  
"Okay. What happened then?"  
"The dog didn't want to go. She kept struggling and yelping and staring at one point. Mr Bailey told me to go and have a look and that's when I found two more puppies. When I put them in the bench as well, their mum settled down. Mr. Bailey and I carried the bench back to the car and he and I drove to the vet's clinic."  
"Why did he have a bench with him?"  
"He was on his way to pick up one of his own dogs at the vet's. He had the bench with him to transport that dog."  
"What happened to your bike?"  
"He loaded it into the car as well. He has a pick-up truck. At the vet's the doctor looked at the mama dog's leg and bandaged it and gave her some shots. Then they phoned Miss Julia whether she could take care of the dog and her puppies. Miss Julia works with them, the vet that is, often. Mr Bailey drove us to Miss Julia. I stayed there for the rest of the day, helping to clean cages and walking her dogs."  
"What time were you home?"  
Brandon looked at his mother.  
"Within curfew," Jayla said drily. "By one minute or so. Six o'clock."  
"So when the accident happened ..."  
"I was on my own, trying to help the dog. It was about nine when I met Mr Bailey."  
"So in theory you could have been on the spot of the accident. I'm not saying you were but we can count on the prosecution to point that out."  
Jayla frowned. "That path is very busy during the vacation season but not as much now. Mostly regulars, people going or coming from work."  
"You mean the same people use it on roughly the same time each day? "  
"Yes, Miss Bennett always comes to the village's centre to have a coffee and pick up the paper. Always coming at 8.45 and going home again forty-five minutes later. But there are more people. I think I can give you a list."  
"That would be very helpful," Harm admitted gratefully. "Since we have only a few days till the trial I need all the help I can get. I need to speak to Mr Bailey as well and to Miss Julia and the people at the vet's clinic. Tomorrow they pick the jury members; I have to be present then."  
In the meantime Jayla had found a piece of paper and was scribbling down names.  
"You have to be there?" she asked. "I thought the court was to select the members of the jury."  
"Yes, that's true but both the persecutor and the defence lawyer have the right to exclude a certain number of people as well. Normally the court calls twelve people in and the judge tells them what they are supposed to do and asks whether there is any reason the potential jurors cannot serve. Maybe they already have knowledge of the case or are related to one of the parties. If either the judge or one of the lawyers thinks they might be biased or unfair, it will be the judge's decision whether they will be dismissed. Next to that both lawyers are allowed to exclude a certain number of potential jurors just because. So a lawyer can dismiss a juror because he thinks that that particular juror will not serve the best interests of the client."  
"So they can compose an all-white jury?"  
"No, it can't be used to discriminate on the basis of race or sex."  
"But then …? I don't understand," Jayla confessed.  
"For instance, men tend to grow more conservative when they get older, while women are more open to new things. On the other hand: men tend to be more forgiving when a youngster reminds them to their own youth. Someone with strong religious beliefs can be very strict but also a firm believer in second changes. It pretty much comes down to the lawyer's judgement of human nature."  
"But this was not a prank."  
"No it wasn't; this was an attack. Can you think of anyone having a grudge against Miss Bennett?"  
Jayla tilted her head to one side, pondering. "She is not that popular. She is nosy, has a sharp tongue and likes to use it. But a serious grudge, I don't know."  
"Brandon, you said there was no school that day. Why?"  
"The teachers had a meeting, about our grades."  
"So that means all kids had the day off?"  
"Yes."  
"Do you know of any of your classmates, anyone from your school has a grudge against Miss Bennet?"  
The boy thought. "I don't know," he finally said. "We ... she is not a person to mess with. She rides a mobility scooter but she walks with a cane and she is very quick with it."  
"What do you mean?" his mum and Harm asked simultaneously.  
"She will hit you with it, if she thinks you did something wrong. Last month she hit Elvis for no reason."  
That evoked a raising of brows.  
"For no reason?" Jayla asked, disbelief on her face.  
"He hadn't done anything yet," Bandon shrugged.  
"But he was going to?"  
"Yes, he wanted to toilet paper her mobility scooter but she came back earlier than he anticipated. She hit him twice before he could escape; he showed us the bruises."  
"Any other boys she might have hit?"  
"She tried to but …"  
"Who?"  
"Alfred and Jimmy. Caught them when they threw snowballs at the supermarket's windows."  
"Mr Gomez's shop?" Harm asked, remembering the name.  
"Yes. He was so angry but he is too fat to run after us."  
"So you were there, too?"  
"Yes. But that was before Mrs Griffin's ankle," Brandon defended himself.  
"Okay. What I like you to do now is to write down as many incidents as you can remember. Detailed: who was there, what did you as a group do, what did you do in person."  
He looked at Jayla. "And I would like you to write down the names and contact data of all the persons involved. Brandon's friends, Mr Bailey, Miss Julia, the vet, Mrs Griffin, the sheriff, everyone. Next I'd like you to make some phone calls, to announce me coming to speak to them."  
Both nodded and grabbed paper and pen.  
Harm leaned back in his chair. He had his work cut out for him.


	2. Chapter 2

_**Part 2 –The Trial  
**_

 _Court  
Friday morning_  
"All rise," the loud voice of the bailiff cut through the buzz of talking people. The courtroom was filled to capacity; everyone wanted to witness the trial.  
"Court is in action, Judge Hoover presiding."  
There was a lot of shuffling and some hushed comments when the crowd sat again.  
The judge flipped through his papers and looked alternatingly at the prosecutor Mr. Brown and at Harm.  
'Is the prosecution ready?"  
"Yes, Sir," the fifty-plus years old slightly corpulent man answered.  
"And the defence?"  
"Yes, Your Honour," Harm nodded.  
"Right, Mr. Brown, your opening statement, if you please."  
Mr. Brown rose to his feet and positioned himself in front of the juror's bench.  
"Six weeks ago a vicious attack took place which almost cost an elderly lady her life."  
At her spot at the prosecutors table Miss Bennett's face twitched. She clearly didn't like to be called 'elderly'.  
"Early that the morning, on her normal trip to the village, she was hit by a thin steel wire, tightened from one side of the road to the other. It was not an accident; that wire had been strung there deliberately, to hurt. Or worse: to kill. This was attempted murder, ladies and gentlemen, performed by a devious mind. We believe that devious mind belonged to that boy," he thumbed over his shoulder towards Brandon "and over the next day or so we will prove it. And then it's your duty, as sworn members of this jury to decide whether he is guilty of not. I trust you will find him guilty, as we know he is."  
With a scornful glare at Bandon he took his place again.  
Now it was Harm's turn.  
"Ladies and gentlemen, we don't dispute the facts. They are clear enough. In the morning of the eight of March, sometime between 8.25 and 8.40 a wire was tightened over the path leading from Miss Bennett's house to the village at about four feet from the ground. At 8.40 Miss Bennett drove on her mobility scooter to the village, as was her habit, to pick up a newspaper and drink her morning coffee. She drove at a moderate speed and that was her luck. She hit the wire at throat high and was hurt. I said she was lucky, for had she driven faster, she might have been killed. She had to undergo surgery and was in hospital for two days, though. An investigation after the perpetrator was launched.  
From that moment on things are not that clear. Except for Miss Bennett there are no witnesses. There are no camera's so no pictures. There are little to no physical traces pointing to the villain. Still a boy has been accused, Brandon Hicks." He looked each member of jury, one by one, in the eye.  
"Accused and by a large part of this village already found guilty. But that is exactly what you will have to do, ladies and gentlemen. It is your task, your duty to determine whether his boy _is_ guilty. We will proof, beyond doubt, he is not. And when both Mr Brown and I rest our case, you will come to the same conclusion. Yes, there was a vicious attack on Miss Bennett, but Brandon Hicks is innocent!"  
With a final nod he walked back to his chair.  
Judge Hoover jotted something down and looked once more to Mr. Brown.  
"Your first witness, Mr. Brown."  
"I call Miss Bennet tot the stand."  
The lady scrambled to her feet and, with help of her cane, took the stand.  
"For the record, state your name and profession, please."  
"I'm Millicent Alicia Bennett, retired teacher."  
Mr. Brown smiled at her.  
"Ma'am, we are very glad you are here, that you lived to tell your story."  
"Miss," was the somewhat catty retort. A bit taken aback the prosecutor looked at the jury, then back to Miss Bennett.  
"Miss Bennett, can you lead us through the events of that morning?"  
She nodded.  
"That morning I left home at 8.30, as is my habit."  
"That morning, that will be the 8th of March?" Mr Brown interrupted.  
"Yes," the lady confirmed with annoyed look. She didn't like to be interrupted.  
"I got my mobility scooter out of the shed, and drove towards the village. About 200 yards before I have to turn onto the main road I say something flash in the sun. I slowed down, but the next thing I know is that I felt a sharp pain in my throat."  
She indicated with her forefinger where the pain had been.  
"I didn't know what had hit me and when I touched my throat I realised I was bleeding. Then I realised I had driven against a thin metal wire. It was at about this height and it had hit my throat." She indicated about three feet from the ground.  
"I looked around I saw a boy, that boy, clamber up a nearby slope and disappear into the bushes." She pointed at Brandon. "I'm sure it was him."  
"We will come to that," Mr Brown promised. "What happened next?"  
"A car stopped and out came Mr Nelson. He asked what had happened and I told him. He took his first aid kit to bandage me and then radioed for the police and an ambulance. They came and the ambulance took me to have me checked out. The police made sure my scooter was secured. Later that day they came and questioned me and I told them everything." Her statement went accompanied by another angry glare at Brandon.  
"And you are sure it was Brandon?"  
"Yes, I am. I only saw him from a distance but I'm sure it was him!"  
The prosecutor waited a moment to let her words sink in.  
"No further questions," he declared.  
Harm stood.  
"You said it's customary for you to ride your scooter to town at 8.30. Each morning?"  
"Yes, for the last 8 years or so. Except for Sunday, that is. On Sundays I leave at 9 o'clock, to attend church."  
"I take it that is common knowledge; the whole village knows where to find you at that time?"  
"Guess so; and that's why I know it was an attack on my life."  
"You mean not many villagers us that path at that time?"  
"Correct. The people going to work and the kids going to school pass by between 8 and 8.30. After 8.30 there is no one, except for me. Only during tourist season, then there are a lot more people. The perp targeted me!"  
"Right. You saw a flash. Can you tell me a bit more about that?"  
"It was just a flash. I guess it was the sun on the wire. I couldn't see it before, there is a slight curve in the road and there are bushes."  
Harm walked over to an easel, standing aside. On it was a large square board. He turned it around and there was a map of the situation. He pointed.  
"You were driving from here to here, when you were hit right here?"  
"That's correct."  
Miss Bennett looked approvingly, apparently pleased with Harm's thorough approach of the situation. Harm indicated the points with a dotted green line and little green crosses.  
"Can you show me where you saw the boy?" He kept the description neutral. With a look at the judge Miss Bennett descended from the stand and pointed out where she had seen the figure of what she believed to be her attacker. "When I saw him he was here."  
Harm draw a red cross. "And where was he going to?"  
She pointed again and Harm marked the path with a red dotted line.  
"Thank you."  
Once more Miss Bennett took her seat, waiting for the next question.  
"He, or she, was about two hundred yards away, right? And he was climbing a sandy slope? That was here?" He produced a few pictures, taken from the point the wire had been tightened and then a few more closely to the slope.  
A sharp nod was his answer.  
"You wear glasses."  
"I can see perfectly well with them," Miss Bennett bristled.  
"I don't doubt it," Harm said politely. "According to your estimate, how large was your assailant?"  
Now the woman hesitated.  
"He was quite a while away," she said. "He looked small, maybe four or five feet but …" She went silent.  
"It was two hundred yard away. So he could have been larger?"  
She nodded reluctantly and Harm decided not to push her. After all, he had made his point. Instead he asked "What was he wearing?"  
That she could tell him and she did. "Jeans and a black hooded jacket."  
"His hood was over his head?"  
"Yes."  
"So you couldn't see his face or his hair."  
"No." Again she sounded defensive and even a bit hostile but Harm didn't care. He had only three questions left.  
"Then, how did you know it had to be Brandon? "  
"I recognized him, the way he walked. And he had dark coloured hands."  
"You recognized his walk, while he was climbing a sandy slope?" Mimicking the movements of a person climbing such a slope Harm made sure doubt was audible in his voice.  
"Yes!" Her eyes flashed.  
"You say he had dark coloured hands. Is it possible he wore black gloves?"  
She kept silent.  
"Miss Bennett?"  
She shrugged. "Guess so." Her glare dared Harm to press the point but he didn't take the bait. Instead he asked "What reason could a twelve year old have to perform such a deed?"  
"He is just a wicked boy; he and his gang! And he was angry for me to interfere with their crimes and informing his mother!"  
Harm nodded. "Last question: can you think of anyone else who might bear a grudge against you?"  
"No, I cannot."  
"No further questions, Your Honour."

Mr Brown rose to his feet again. Courteously he helped Miss Bennett down from the stand and walked her to her seat. Then he turned towards the judge.  
"I call Mr Nelson to the stand."  
This was the man who had been first on the scene and his testimony was short and to the point. Driving to the village he had seen Miss Bennet standing next to her mobility scooter. Since she appeared to be wounded he had stopped and grabbed his first aid kit to help her. It was only after she had showed it to him he had seen the metal wire and had taken a cutter out of his tool box to remove is before more accidents could happen. Then he had radioed for both the sheriff and an ambulance. When they arrived, he had told the sheriff what had happened. After that he had driven on to his appointment. Later that day he had given a full statement."  
When asked he added that his hadn't seen a living soul, except for Miss Bennett and himself. He knew Miss Bennett, she was a familiar face in the village and he was sure he had seen Brandon before but not that day, of that he was sure. Neither the prosecutor nor Harm had any further questions.

The next witness was sheriff Ramsey After the sheriff had stated his name and profession and was sworn in, the prosecutor started "Will you tell us about the events on the morning of the eight of March?"  
Sheriff Ramsey made himself comfortable in the chair. It was clear it wasn't his first appearance as a witness.  
"At 8.55am I received a radio call from Mr Nelson that there had been an attack on Miss Bennett. I rushed to the place and found her and Mr Nelson. They showed me a metal wire, tightened over the path. Well, it wasn't tightened anymore since Mr Nelson had cut it loose, but it had been tightened. Miss Bennett, riding in her mobility scooter, had hit it and was wounded at her throat. At that moment the ambulance arrived as well and the paramedics checked her out and took her to hospital to have the wound stitched. I took a brief statement from Mr Nelson. By then my deputy had arrived and I left it to him to secure the crime scene and gather the evidence. I followed the ambulance to the hospital and took a statement from Miss Bennett."  
"What did you learn?"  
"She was hit by a wire, which injured her throat."  
"Was it serious?"  
"I asked the medical staff and they told had she driven full speed she might have been seriously wounded or even decapitated. It was her luck she already had slowed down."  
"What did you do next?"  
"I went back to the place and together with my deputy I gathered evidence."  
"What did you find?"  
"It was a thin steel wire, very common. My guess is every other household has a little roll. It had been tightened between a tree and a pole, which was hammered into the ground with a rock. We know that because the rock was still there and the pole's head showed stone dust, consistent with the rock. We tried to find fingerprints and swabbed for DNA but no luck. We found a few black cotton fibres, probably from gloves."  
"What about other evidence? Like shoeprints?"  
"We followed the trail towards where Miss Bennett had seen the hooded figure. There were footprints but the ground was either too hard or too sandy to get a clear print. We were not able to get more than an estimate of the size, which was either 7 or an 8."  
"What seize does the defendant have?"  
"He has a 7."  
"Did you recover the gloves? Any gloves?"  
"No. At the Hicks' house we found several pairs of mittens, female as well as male, and a pair of female brown leather gloves but no black cotton ones."  
"But the suspect could easily have tossed them, didn't he?"  
"Guess so."  
"Did you search for them?"  
"Yes, but as I said, we didn't find them."  
Mr Brown checked his papers.  
"Is there anything you have to add?"  
"No Sir," the sheriff said calmly.  
Mr Brown sat down and Harm stood up.  
"Is there any physical evidence connecting Brandon to the attack?"  
"No." Ramsey shook his head.  
"When you questioned Brandon about his whereabouts that morning, what did he say?"  
"That he was busy rescuing a dog. He claimed he flagged down Mr Bailey to help him."  
"Where did he say that was?"  
"On the road between his house and Miss Julia's place."  
Once more Harm walked over to the easel, now producing another, larger map.  
"Brandon lives here, doesn't he?  
The sheriff nodded and Harm marked the spot with a little red cross..  
"Can you point out the spot where the attack on Miss Bennett took place?"  
With a look at the judge, who nodded agreeing, the sheriff stepped down, walked over to the easel and pointed. Harm draw another little red cross.  
"And the spot where Brandon claimed he was helping the dog?"  
Again Ramsey pointed and a third cross was added.  
"How far is it from the place where Brandon told you he flagged down Mr Bailey to the place where the wire was tightened?"  
"As the crow flies about two miles, I reckon. Over the road: three."  
"That's about 15 minutes by bike, right?"  
"Yes."  
"Would it have been possible for him to bike to the spot, attach the wire, run to the slope while still being visible to Miss Bennett and be back in time to rescue the dog and flag down Mr Bailey at around nine?"  
The sheriff tilted his head, calculating.  
"No, I don't think so," he concluded.  
Harm nodded satisfied.  
"To your knowledge, does Brandon have a motive, any motive, to attack or kill Miss Bennett."  
Again the sheriff shook his head. "No, I couldn't come up with anything."  
"So all you have is the Miss Bennett's statement."  
"Yes."  
"Is there, to your knowledge, anyone else who has a motive? Anyone with a grudge?"  
The man hesitated for a moment, as to consider how to put his thoughts into words.  
"This is purely my personal opinion but Miss Bennet has lived here for a long time and she knows a lot of things. Also things people rather not talk about or would have liked to keep secret. And she is a firm believer in the freedom of speech."  
"Meaning?" The prosecutor didn't get it and interrupted.  
"Meaning she thinks everyone is entitled to her opinion and she makes sure everyone gets it, whether they want it or not."  
Suppressed chuckles and giggles underlined his words. Judge Hoover ordered silence and now had a question of his own.  
"Do you know of any specific case?"  
"No. I have heard people grumble about her but nothing solid."  
Harm nodded.  
"No further questions, Your Honour."

When the deputy was called to give his statement, he just confirmed his boss' story. He didn't have anything to add; after handing over the evidence his job had been done.  
The judge checked his watch.  
"How many witnesses do you have left, Mr Brown?"  
"Only one, Your Honour. Miss Alcott."  
"Right. Call her in and after her we will pause for lunch."

It turned out Miss Alcott had a lot to say but little solid information to add.  
"He is a member of ... of that ... that gang, isn't he? Always up to no-good! Everyone knows he shot Edith's cat. The poor creature! Braking Dorothy's windows and building a very rude snowman in front of her house. Having Judith fall over that slide. And then old Mr Jenkins. Easy target, right!" She glared at Brandon angrily.  
"How do you know it was Brandon?" the prosecutor tried to bring her back to the subject.  
"He was there, wasn't he? And so was I. In the store, I mean. I needed cat food, my poor Timmy was starving and that good for nothing help had forgotten to buy it. She always brings the wrong brand anyway." She drew a breath. "Anyway, Mr Jenkins' house is just behind the store, and by the alleyway you're there in a jiffy."  
"Right. Anything more you can tell us, Miss Alcott?"  
"He was on the lookout when that other boy, I forgot his name, tried to toilet paper Millicent's scooter. Not a great job he did, he missed her when she approached from the other direction." She smirked. "She hit that rascal quite nicely."  
The prosecutor nodded.  
"Your witness."  
Harm rose to his feet.  
"Miss Alcott, let take the incidents one by one. You said you saw Brandon and Elvis attempting to toilet paper Miss Bennett's scooter, Brandon being on the lookout and Elvis performing the act. Which boy did Miss Bennett hit?"  
"Elvis, that was the boy. And she hit Elvis. Twice as I remember well. Serves him well, if I may say so."  
Harm looked at the judge. "Objection. Personal opinion."  
"Sustained. Miss Alcott, I'm sorry but you are not allowed to voice your personal opinion. You can only tell what you saw or heard yourself."  
The woman looked angry but refrained from commenting.  
Harm kept a straight face.  
"Right. The greenhouse and the snowman. What did you see?"  
"Well, it was there Sunday morning when we came back from church."  
"We, that will be?"  
"Dorothy Windymere and I. She is my neighbour."  
"You say you went to church and when you came back, it was there. So you didn't see who made it."  
"No, but the day before that gang threw snowballs at her greenhouse. I heard a window break and came out to investigate and saw about five boys throwing snowballs. Dorothy, Miss Windymere, came also outside and yelled at them. They ran and at a distance they stopped and started to call us names. The next day the snowman was there" Her prim facial expression made clear she was not ready to elaborate.  
"Was Brandon with those boys?"  
For the first time the lady seemed to hesitate.  
"I'm not sure. But he was always there so why wouldn't he this time?"  
"But you didn't _see_ him?"  
"No."  
Harm went on the next subject.  
"You mentioned Mrs Griffin. What can you tell about her?"  
"That boy made a snow slide and Mrs Griffin almost broke her neck over it. She was home-bound for weeks."  
"In fact, she sprained her ankle and had to rest it for two weeks, didn't she?"  
Reluctantly the woman nodded.  
"And when Brandon's mother found out Brandon was grounded for a week, lost computer time _and_ was made go by Mrs Griffin every day to see whether she had errands to run. They became good friends, didn't they?"  
Miss Alcott kept silent; it was clear she didn't want to confirm something that went against her own conviction. Harm looked at the judge.  
"Please answer the question, Miss Alcott," Mr Hoover said.  
"Yes." The answer couldn't be shorter.  
"The cat. Did you see it been shot?"  
"No, it came home, limping and bleeding. But that boy … " she seemed to find it hard to say Brandon's name "that boy was always luring cats and dogs. And I _have_ seen him shooting."  
"Luring cats and dogs, okay. And when they came to him, what did he do? Did he hurt them, hit them, kicked them?"  
Miss Alcott shrugged. "Never seen him do that."  
"What did he do?"  
"Didn't pay attention. I have better things to do."  
"I find it hard to believe that you never, not one time, stopped and watched. Especially when it concerned a boy you suspected of being up to no good."  
"Objection," the prosecutor yelled. "Goading the witness."  
"I just used the words the witness used herself when she described the 'gang of boys', Sir," Harm defended his line of question.  
"That's true. Overruled. Go on."  
"What did he do?"  
"Pet them." Again the answer was very short.  
Harm didn't push. There was no sense in making the witness even more hostile.  
"You said you saw him shooting. The cat was brought to the vet who concluded someone had emptied an airgun on it, didn't he?"  
Miss Alcott nodded. "It took over an hour to remove all the pellets and Edith had to pay over a hundred dollar," she volunteered.  
"Right. You saw Brandon shoot an airgun? Or saw him he shoot at animals?"  
"No, a catapult. At empty cans."  
"So he was target practicing?"  
"Guess so."  
"Did you ever see him with an air gun?"  
"Yes," the women said triumphantly. "That whole gang was together and taking turns in using two or three guns."  
This was new information to Harm but he wasn't taken aback.  
"Shooting at … what?"  
"Targets. They were talking about hunting, though. I walked by and heard them brag about how well they would shoot."  
"But you never say Brandon, or any other kid, shoot at an animal?"  
"Do you think I would have kept quiet, had I seen that?" the woman bristled.  
"No, I don't think so. I think you love animals and would have done something to stop them," Harm quietly answered. Satisfied she sank back into the chair.  
"The attack on Mr Jenkins, you said you saw Brandon. Where did you seen him?"  
"I told you already, in the store."  
"Where exactly? I mean, did he come out when you entered, or vice versa or did you meet at, let's say, the dairy section?"  
"He was standing behind me in line when I was ready to pay. I was just receiving the change when we heard Mr Jenkins scream and we all ran out."  
"So he was standing next to you when Mr Jenkins screamed."  
"That's what I said, right?" Miss Alcott looked like only the fact she was on the witness-stand kept her from giving him a piece of her mind.  
"How can Brandon be involved in bullying Mr Jenkins when he was in the store the very moment the deed took place?"  
Her jaw dropped. "But … he …," she stuttered.  
Now Harm decided to push a bit harder.  
"In fact, you're his alibi for that very moment, aren't you, standing next to him."  
She nodded mutely, flabbergasted.  
"No further questions."  
The judge hammered his gavel.  
"I suspend for lunch. Court is in recess till two o'clock."

 _Court  
Afternoon_  
Harm had plotted his strategy carefully. He had decided he would reconstruct Brandon's day by one by one calling the people the boy had met that day to the stand. First would be Jayla.  
"For the record, state your name and relation to the suspect."  
"I am Jayla Hicks-Montgomery. Brandon is my son."  
With a nod the bailiff indicated she could sit down.  
"Let's go back to that 8th of March. What can you tell us about Brandon's whereabouts?"  
"He was free that that day. The teachers had a meeting. At breakfast he told me he wanted to go to Miss Julia, to see whether he could help her. I said it was okay and he left at half past eight."  
"Is it common for him to go and help Miss Julia?"  
"Yes, Brandon loves animals; he would love to have a dog but we can't have one. Our landlord doesn't allow pets and besides, I have to work."  
"Right. So Brandon was gone by 8.30. When did you see him again?"  
"At dinner. That is, I told him to be home at 6 and he was, by one minute or so. I told him to shower and change and we had dinner at half past six. After that we watched TV and he was in bed by nine."  
"You are sure about the times?"  
"Yes."  
"Does Brandon own a black, hooded jacket like Miss Bennett described?  
"Yes, he does. As do several of his friends and classmates, and I have no doubt, many others as well. They were on sale in February."  
"Did he wear it that day?"  
Jayla thought for a minute.  
"No," she said. "He was but I called him back and made him wear his old one. He tends to get dirty at Miss Julia's and I didn't want him to ruin his new cloths."  
Harm nodded at the prosecutor.  
"Your witness.  
The man rose to his feet.  
"Let's talk about Brandon's behaviour the past six-seven months. He is in a gang, isn't he?"  
Harm was glad he had prepared Jayla. Her eyes spit fire but she stayed calm.  
"It's not a gang. Yes, Brandon was part of a group of friends. They formed a secret club, just like boys like to do at that age, and got into mischief. Inspired by certain TV series they dared each other to so called stunts and tried to outdo each other. I admit Brandon was into things like ding-dong ditch, smudging windows and kicking trashcans. When I found out I disciplined him."  
"Not too successfully," the prosecutor muttered under his breath and Jayla threw him a disgusted look.  
"To your knowledge, was your son involved in the trashing of Miss Windermere's greenhouse, the snow slide that caused Mrs Griffin's injury, the shooting of the Williams' cat or the attack on Mr Jenkins?"  
"The only thing he was part of was the snow slide. But that was an accident. The kids, and it were not only he and his friends, there were eight or nine other kids as well, had an afternoon of fun in the snow and when they realised curfew was fast approaching they ran for home and forgot to cover the slide. The other occasions, no way. He wasn't at Miss Windermere's for he had a cold and was at home, Saturday as well as Sunday, he loves animals and would never shoot one just for fun and with Mr Jenkins, he was in the store, buying me milk and cereals."  
"To your knowledge, does your son have a grudge to Mrs. Bennett?"  
"No. He doesn't like her, but then again, not many people like her"  
"Why is that?"  
"Objection, calls for personal opinion".  
"Overruled. The witness may answer."  
"I never had much contact with her but I know she is nosy and she has a sharp tongue, is often harsh in her judgement and likes to voice her opinion."  
"Right. By the way, where were you yourself, that day?"  
"Home, doing chores and at work; my shift started at 11 o'clock, I left home at 10.30 ."  
"Can you prove that?"  
Harm interrupted.  
"Objection. The witness isn't on trial."  
"Sustained. Tread carefully, Mr. Brown," the judge warned.  
"Withdrawn. Last question, is there anything you can add to your statement?"  
Jayla shook her head. "No Sir."  
No further questions, Your Honour."

Next Mr. Bailey took the stand. He threw a disgusted look at the prosecutor and straightened his shoulders. Harm frowned. The man had made it clear how repulsed he was with the accusations against the boy whom he considered a friend, and it had taken Harm quite a while to convince him a feisty attitude wouldn't do Brandon any good. With a suppressed sigh he asked his first question, hoping the man could control himself.  
But he didn't have to worry. In a clear and loud voice, the voice of a man being used to be in the open field, Mr. Bailey gave his testimony. Yes, Brandon had flagged him down, at about nine o'clock. He hadn't checked his watch. He had been on his way to the vet to pick up his own dog but had stopped to help. He knew Brandon as a good kid; if the boy called for help, there was a situation. Brandon had led him to the dog and together they had freed it, caught the four puppies and brought them to the vet. After the vet had examined and treated the dog, he had driven Brandon, the dog and the puppies to Miss Julia and left them there. Then he and his own dog had gone home.  
Harm produced another copy of the map and the man was most happy to point out where the event had taken place.  
"So you can vouch for his whereabouts from about nine till …?" Harm asked his final question.  
"Yes, from about nine to half past ten or so. But I saw his footprints, fresh footprints, all around the dog so I'm sure he was there shortly before." He raised his chin daringly.  
Harm nodded. "Your witness," he told the prosecutor.  
"How did you know they were fresh footprints?"  
"I'm a hunter. Have been, all my life, since I was five years old and now I'm almost seventy. Not much you can teach me about the outdoor life and the traces they leave," Mr. Bailey proudly proclaimed. Confirming murmurs sounded and the judged used his gavel. "Order in the room," he ordered. The prosecutor threw a timorous look over his shoulder. "No further questions," he decided.

In a few words the vet and his assistant confirmed Mr. Bailey's story. He and Brandon had brought the dog in around 9.30. The vet had examined her and concluded that next to a bruised and bleeding paw she had no injuries. She was very thin, though, covered in flees and in desperate need of a bath. The puppies needed flee and worm treatment as well but other than that they were fine. A phone call to Miss Julia had confirmed she was willing to take the dogs in and Mr. Bailey had been kind enough to bring them.  
Neither Harm nor Mr. Brown had any further questions.


	3. Chapter 3

_**Part 3 – Miss Julia testifies**_

The last to sit in the chair, except from Brandon, that is, was Miss Julia. Well in her seventies she was still a force to count with.  
"You are ..?"  
"I'm Julia Maria Crozet. I was born and raised here and except for four years of college, lived here all my life. I've been a schoolteacher for over fifty years. After my retirement I decided to dedicate myself to my largest passion: animals. I house abandoned animals and try to rehome them. If some call me a crazy cat lady, well so be it."  
Harm nodded. "Wat is your relation with Brandon Hicks?" he continued.  
"He wasn't a student of mine; I had already retired when he started school, but he comes by at a regular base to help me with the furries. I would call him a friend."  
"On a regular base, that will be …"  
"At least once a week. He helps cleaning cages, walks dogs and assists me with various chores."  
"Would you say helping you is his part-time job?"  
"I do pay him a little something; I can't afford to pay much, but mostly he helps me because he loves animals, too."  
"What can you tell me about the day Miss Bennett was attacked?"  
"I more or less expected him that day; I knew the kids had the day off. But he didn't show up and that was fine, too; it's not that he is obliged or that we agreed on him coming. Until the call from the vet, that is. At 10.40 Mr. Bailey dropped him and the mother-dog with her four puppies off. Brandon helped me to bath them and settle them in and after that we had lunch. In the afternoon he helped me with the regular chores. He left around half past five."  
"As a teacher you must know one or two things about people. What can you tell me about Brandon? What kind of a person is he?"  
"He is an average boy. Loves boy-things, like sports and play wrestling and getting dirty. Can be stubborn once in a while. But if you take him serious, talk to him and explain things, he is open to reasoning. He is very helpful and wants to learn. And he loves animals. That's why I will never believe he shot at Andy the cat. He has no vicious bone inside him."  
"Can you recall what he was wearing that day?"  
This made the woman think.  
"Jeans and sneakers, that I know. He swapped them for wellies when he started cleaning  
cages. And a grey jack, I think" She narrowed her eyes in concentration. "Yes, a dark grey jacket."  
"To your knowledge, does he have a grudge against Miss Bennett?"  
"No, not really. He scoffed at her once or twice, like when she hit his friend after they attempted to toilet paper her mobility scooter. But then again, he scoffs at his teacher when she gave him a bad grade or at his mum for making him do chores he dislikes. After all, he is a boy."  
Harm smiled. Till now things were going exactly as he planned. He had just one question left. He still hadn't decided whether he would put Brandon on the stand. The boy wanted to tell his story and prove his innocence but on the other hand it would give the prosecution the opportunity to question him as well. He looked aside to the jury; they looked rather benevolent to his client.. Maybe best not, he thought. No need in having him undergo the prosecutor's questioning.  
"Is there anything you know about the attack on Miss Bennet?" he redirected his attention to Miss Julia.  
Even before he had ended, the woman shook her head. "No, nothing," she said.  
"Your witness." Harm gestured to Mr. Brown.  
The man rose and scraped his throat.  
"I have only one or two questions for you, Miss. How can you be so sure Brandon loved animals?"  
"Because they love him. You can trick a human into believing you love animals, you never can fool the animal itself."  
"Right. Last question for you: do you know anyone to have a grudge against Miss Bennett?"  
"Well, a lot of people dislike her sharp tongue. Next to that she has a way to find out things, which she threatens to make public if you do something that pisses her off. And if she is up to her old tricks, there might even be a little blackmail involved," Miss Julia calmly told him, like she wasn't aware she just had dropped a bombshell. Only Harm was close enough to see the glimmer in her eyes.  
The prosecutor swallowed. This was more than he bargained for.  
"No further questions." This was a can of worms he didn't want to open any further.  
"Redirect, Your Honour?" Harm was quick to request.  
The judge nodded.  
"What do you mean by old tricks and blackmail? Can you give us an example?" he asked.  
Before she could answer, the judge stepped in. "Ma'am, I have to remind you hear-say is neither allowed nor admissible," he addressed her but he didn't stop her from answering. He too was curious what she had to say.  
"Yes, Your Honour," Miss Julia bent her head respectfully.  
The judge gestured her to go on.  
"I have known Millicent my whole life. She and I were both born and raised here and went to college together, both studying to become a teacher. In our third year something happened. I don't know what but there was a lot of gossiping and rumours about blackmail. I know there was, because I heard the rumours and gossip myself." She looked very innocent and Harm had to bend his head to hide his smile. If ever he had heard a witness work her way around 'hear-say'…  
"When I returned after summer break I learned Millicent was engaged to a James Meyers. The next year, early July she was supposed to get married but only weeks before the wedding was cancelled. Nobody knew why but I witnessed a fight between her and James. He accused her of snooping and making people do things they didn't want to for her own profit and he said he didn't want anything to do with it and that the wedding was off. When he left, Millicent was furious and threw her engagement ring after him but he didn't look back. I didn't understand back then but the next day I went back to search for it."  
"Lies, all lies," Miss Bennett hissed from her place next to the prosecutor. Her back was rigid and her eyes spat fire.  
"I still have that ring. It sits in a small box in the linen cabinet," Miss Julia said quietly. "After I found it I approached James and wanted to give it to him but he refused, telling me he didn't want to touch it ever again. The next morning I went to Mr and Mrs Bennet's house but Millicent had already left. I didn't want to sell it or give it away, after all, it was not mine but there never seemed to be a right moment to return it to Millicent."  
"Ma'am, this is all very interesting but a circumstantial and a long time ago," the judge interrupted.  
"I will come to that. That autumn I started to work as a teacher at Brock Hurst Elementary School," Miss Julia continued. "My father had already passed away and a few years later my mum died as well. A few months later I got a new colleague and she needed a place to stay. I was living by myself in the large house my parents left me and offered her a few rooms. We got along very well and she continued living with me till she died because of cancer, only eight years later."  
She swallowed, fighting her emotions.  
"Patricia died in April and in May I had to decide on the graduation of my students. There were two or three kids not ready for the next grade and they would have to repeat the class. It was then that I received a note, telling me I needed to pass a certain boy to the next class. His grades were the worst and I wasn't going to rethink. I called the parents of those three kids in and told them the verdict. The next day there was a note telling me to reconsider or else ..."  
She lifted her chin. "I prefer women over men. Pat and I were not only friends but also lovers. She was the love of my life and the years with her were the happiest of my life."  
It was like a wave of whispering went through the packed court and the judge had to hammer his gavel once more.  
"The note threatened to expose the true nature of our relation. Back in the days that would have meant I would be fired but what was more, it would have smudged Pat's memory. I knew it was Millicent. Not only did I recognize her handwriting, she was also the only one I knew had found us out. We were on a vacation once and less careful than at home and Millicent was at that same place at the same time. I was so heartbroken and furious I didn't care so I went straight to her, accused her of blackmailing and told her I would not hesitate to expose her if she didn't back off. After all, I had the letter. I never heard from her again. I now understood the meaning of the words I overheard so many years before. By the way, that boy was her nephew."  
She reached for the glass of water and drank greedily.  
"About ten years later a good friend of mine appeared on my doorstep. She had received an ugly letter and showed it to me. It was a blackmail letter and she was 'asked' to provide the writer with a large sum of money, otherwise her husband would hear some things he wouldn't like. I asked what that would be and she told me she had had a meeting with a cousin in the third degree of hers, who was also a childhood friend. It had all been very innocent but I knew her husband was very jealous and it would cause major problems in her marriage, even might lead to a divorce. Once again I recognized Millicent's handwriting. I wanted to confront her but my friend begged me to let it go and I let myself be persuaded. Since she couldn't cough up the required sum I lent her the money. Shortly after they moved and over the years she paid me back. They are both deceased now as well. The day after they had moved out of our village, I went to Millicent and told her that it was only for the sake of my friend I wasn't going to expose her but if I ever came across another attempt to blackmail, my next visit would be the sheriff's office. And she knew I meant it! The two letters are in the same box as the ring. If necessary I'll be very happy to hand them over for handwriting comparison."

After she had finished you could hear a pin drop in the room. The judge needed a moment to decide how to proceed. He looked at Harm. Harm rose.  
"To your knowledge, have there been more cases of blackmailing?"  
"No, not that I _know_ of." She stressed the word know. "I do have my suspicions, though, but I don't know for sure, nor do I have any evidence. A month after my friend had handed her blackmailer the money, small advertisements started to appear, in which Millicent recommended herself as moneylender. Several people commented on or complained about the height of the interest but since she didn't do anything illegal there was not much I could do. There were some unusual acts, like selling a piece of land, but that could be a coincidence or another way of gaining money. But then again, out of curiosity I visited the land registry office once and found out that, although they were sold to different people, all those pieces of land now belonged to one and the same person, Millicent Bennett."  
Behind him Harm felt Jayla tense.  
"Can I talk to you for a moment?" she whispered. Her words went all but lost in the outburst of voices in the courtroom and judge Hoover once again banged his gavel. It took some time but finally silence returned, more or less, that is. Only Mr Brown was still fervently whispering at Miss Bennett, who ignored him haughtily.  
It was clear judge Hoover needed a bit of time to decide what his next step had to be. He looked  
alternately to Harm and Mr Brown. Harm jumped to the occasion.  
"Can I have a moment with my client, Your Honour," he asked.  
Relieved the judged nodded.  
"I suspend the court for fifteen minutes, to allow both attorneys to have a moment with their clients," he announced. He hammered, rose and disappeared into the judge's room.  
Harm beckoned Brandon and Jayla to follow him to the small room that was assigned to him for the day. As soon they were in and the door was closed Jayla busted out "That happened to me, too, Sir."  
"What happened?" In the heat of the moment Harm was sharper than he used to be.  
Jayla was hardly able to contain her excitement. "I too got a letter, Sir, only a few weeks ago. I own a small piece of land and I got an offer to sell. But it was a ridiculously low offer, only a third or less of what it is worth. But still they told me it would benefit me to accept. It was from a law firm I didn't know and when I tried to find more information about them I came up empty-handed. Today, before we came here there was another letter. I didn't read it yet." She rummaged through her bag, finally turning it over and dropping the contents on the table. There it was, a small white envelope. She wanted to take and open it but Harm grabbed her hand to prevent her.  
"If there is something not right about it, we might be wise to have it checked for fingerprints," he said. Wide eyed and in shock Jayla and Brandon looked at him. Harm went to the door and called for the bailiff. In a few words he explained the situation and the man nodded understanding. He went and came back with the sheriff. Brandon looked a bit suspicious but sheriff Ramsey ignored him and turned to Harm.  
"Guess you're right and we better have look at that letter." He pulled some rubber gloves out of his pocket. Harm's brows rose; he never met a sheriff actually carrying gloves with him.  
Seeing his look the man laughed. "Hey, I love forensics."  
Carefully he slit the envelope open and pulled the contents out. He unfolded the letter and the four of them bent over it to read.  
Again it was an offer to buy the land but there was also a reference to the trial and the comment that keeping her son out of jail surely would mean more to her than the possession of a piece of land she didn't use anyway. Maybe, if she was willing to sell, someone could put in a good word and Brandon wouldn't be punished too severely. That is, on the condition that she didn't speak to the police or someone else about the letter. The signature was illegible.  
With a grim expression the sheriff folded the letter again and pushed it back into the envelope. He looked around to find something to put it in and Harm was quick to present him with a large envelope from his briefcase.  
"I think we should talk to the judge," he suggested. Ramsey nodded and the four of them walked towards the judge's room. There they found Miss Julia as well.  
"I think you better wait outside," Harm told Brandon. The boy clearly didn't like it but, albeit with a sour expression on his face, obeyed and sat down on the bench next to the judge's room's door.  
Indoors Mr. Brown was already talking to the judge, trying to persuade him not to pay attention to the most recent revelations. But he fell silent when Ramsey told him about the letter Jayla had received.  
The judge's face became grim.  
'This certainly warrants a full investigation, Ramsey," he stated. "But unfortunately, Mr. Brown is also right. It should not interfere with the present trial."  
"But this should. Three of the jurors are closely related to Miss Bennett," Miss Julia said, dropping another bombshell.  
"What?"  
There was a knock on the door and the bailiff entered to warn recess was over.  
"Tell the people we need another 15 minutes," the judge ordered. He wanted to know all ins and outs of the matter before he returned to the court. The last thing he wanted was to get another unpleasant surprise. The bailiff left and Hoover turned to Miss Julia again. "Elaborate," he demanded  
"I don't blame you, or you, or you, or you," she began, looking at the four men one by one. "Neither of you originates from Old Orchard Beach. I told I was born and raised here and so is Millicent. Both our families have been living here for generations. Previously it was a close knit community but in the sixties and seventies a lot of people moved in. Family became less important, but back then it did matter and we could name our ancestors four of five generations back. In fact, Millicent and I are related, too. Her great-grandmother and my great-grandfather were brother and sister. It's inevitable, I guess, in a small community it make sense that families get intertwined. Well, Millicent's grandmother, that's my great-grandmother's niece, married three times. Her first husband was a Burns, and Millicent's mother Alicia was his daughter. He was a fisherman and perished at sea, shortly after she was born. Shortly after that she remarried, after all, in those days a woman needed a husband. She got pregnant again and delivered twins, Petra and Paula Lewiston. After her second husband died, TB, I think, she remarried again and had a son, Jason. At that time, it was before the collapse of stock market in 1929, the family was rich and owned a large house. The whole family lived together and afterwards they kept living together, for there was no money to live apart. So Alicia, Petra, Paula and Jason grew up together and when they married their spouses moved in as well. The next generation was born there and the family only split up as late as the early sixties."  
As she spoke Harm had scribbled down a family tree and showed it to her. Miss Julie nodded.  
"That's accurate, she nodded. "Millicent is the oldest child of Alicia Burns and John Bennett. She had a younger brother but he died as a child. Both Petra and Paula married, one to a Mr Carter and the other to Mr Owens. They both had four children. Jason married as well and had two daughters. For there were three different fathers to begin with and the daughters married and the children got their father's name most people forgot the family relation. Carl Carter is the middle son of Petra, Bertie Owens is the youngest son of Paula and Ingrid is Jason's daughter. They all grew up with Millicent."  
Harm had completed his family tree.  
"Mr Rabb, Mr Brown, did any of you ask the jurors whether they were related to one of the parties?" the judge asked.  
"I guess so," Harm fished his notes out of his briefcase and showed them, and low and behold, at all three he had ticked 'not related'.  
The judge fingered his chin.  
"Can I have that for a moment?" he asked pointing at the sketch. Harm nodded and shoved the paper towards him.  
"Miss Julia, you're sure this is accurate?"  
"Yes Your Honour," was the firm answer.  
"Right. I don't think I have any choice than declare it a mistrial. Sheriff, seeing the new evidence and leads you have your work cut out for you."  
Ramsey straightened his shoulders. "Yes Sir."  
Judge Hoover rose and beckoned the others to follow him. Recess was over.

Inside the courtroom silence fell when the four man, two women and one boy entered. The judge took his place behind the desk again.  
"Before we restart I have a few questions. Miss Bennett. Are you the daughter of and John Bennett Alicia Burns."  
Miss Bennett nodded affirmatively. "Yes, Your Honour."  
Then Mr Hoover looked at the jury. "Mr. Carl Carter, are you a son of Petra Lewiston, the half-sister of Miss Bennett's mother Alicia Burns, which makes you a cousin to Millicent Bennett?"  
The man paled. "Yes, Your Honour," he confirmed in an audibly shaken voice.  
"Mr. Bertie Owens, are you a son of Paula Lewiston, the half-sister of Miss Bennett's mother Alicia Burns, which makes you a cousin to Millicent Bennett?"  
"Yes Sir." The man's face was like carved out of stone.  
"Ingrid Ragman, are you a daughter of Jason Ragman, the half-brother of Miss Bennett's mother Alicia Burns, which makes you a cousin to Millicent Bennett?" Silently the women nodded yes.  
"Neither of you did mention that; in fact, each of you denied, when asked whether you were related to one of the parties, didn't you?" Three nods were the response.  
"Seeing the facts, I don't have another choice than declare it a mistrial. Next to that, not that it matters because of the mistrial, seeing the evidence I will use my authority as a judge and declare the defendant not guilty. Brandon, you're a free man."  
Behind him Harm heard Jayla choke back a sob. Brandon turned and, pushing Harm aside, flung himself into his mother's arms. Applause and cheering sounded in the courtroom.  
Once more the gavel was used.  
"The sheriff will conduct a new investigation into the attack on Miss Bennett," the judge announced, "as well as into the accusation of blackmail performed by Miss Bennett." He ignored the daggers shooting from the lady's eyes. "In addition to that I will see what's possible in suing you," he furthermore addressed Carl Carter, Bertie Owens and Ingrid Ragman. "Court is adjourned," he concluded with a last firm bang.

Outside Jayla couldn't stop thanking him, hugging him repeatedly. Harm gave her a weary smile. Now it was over he realize how tired he was. And there were only two days of his leave left.  
He straightened his shoulders; he shouldn't whine. After all, it had been for a good cause.

 _Saturday  
End of the afternoon  
Harm's loft_  
He had expected to come home to an empty house but he wasn't. There was soft music and the smell of good food. Mac was standing in the kitchen, humming and dancing with the music. He had only a moment to enjoy the sight of her swinging hips before she noticed him and rushed over to greet him.  
"You're back."  
To his surprise she gave him a warm hug, which he returned eagerly. When she released him, he let go of her reluctantly.  
"To what do I owe this?" he asked.  
Mac hesitated. She didn't want to give away too much of her feelings.  
"You gave up your days off to help a boy. That deserves a bit of TLC and pampering, don't you think?"  
Harm smiled a tired smile. Now he was home, he felt how straining the past days had been. And to think he had had the few days off to rest and recharge. Not that he regretted what he had done. Not for a second; without him an innocent kid probably would have gone to jail and have a record for the rest of his life.  
"Sorry, what did you say?" he said, when he realised Mac had been talking to him and was waiting for an answer now.  
"I said, why don't you sit and relax while I heat the food. I made ghotab for dessert."  
This brought a full blown smile to Harm's face. Although he didn't have a very sweet tooth, the walnut filled deep-fried nuggets were his favourite. Mac didn't prepare them often for making them was very time-consuming so he always felt privileged when she made them for him.  
He shook his head. "I'm going to take hot shower and change," he declared.

Dinner was quiet; only a few sentences were shared. Afterwards Mac put the dishes in the washer and they retired to the sofa, each with a cup of tea.  
"What were you smiling for, earlier?" Mac dared to ask.  
"When?" Harm didn't remember.  
"When I said you deserved a bit of pampering."  
"I was thinking that whatever reason you had to give me a bit of TLC, I was happy to accept," he said.  
Tired herself Mac wasn't really on guard anymore when she sighed "You deserve it. You're a good man."  
" _The_ good man?" Harm couldn't stop himself asking.  
Mac swallowed. "I like to think so," she whispered.  
His look was intense. Slowly he placed his mug on the coffee table. Then reached out, took hers and set it on the table as well. His hands went to her hips. She swallowed when he started to pull her towards him. Finding it hard to breath she saw him lean in. When his lips almost touched hers, her eyelids fluttered down. She felt his breath on her face. His lips were soft and tender; he clearly didn't want to push her. When he pulled away she let out a little whimper. She didn't want him to stop and made a feeble attempt to hold him back.  
Luckily he didn't want to stop either. In a second his lips were back on hers, this time with a bit more force.  
Finally he pulled back and they were staring at each other for a long time.  
"I probably should say I'm sorry but I don't, for I am not," Harm declared, a quivering muscle next to his eye betraying his nervousness. "I dreamed about kissing you for a long time."  
Tears of sheer relief welled up in Mac's eyes. He wiped them away, like he had done before, and she leant into his hand.  
"Will you go out with me, on a date?"  
"Yes," she nodded.  
"Next Friday?"  
She nodded again.  
He trailed his fingertips over her cheek. When they were next to her mouth she slightly turned her head and kissed them.  
"You are so beautiful," he sighed, pulling her close again, her head tucked away under his chin, his hands drawing circles on her back. Mac closed her eyes; somehow she knew he wasn't going to say the words, not tonight, but for now she didn't care; she was more than happy with the progress.

The clock chimed eleven and reluctantly she released herself.  
"You better go to bed," she said. "I know you're tired."  
Harm wanted to protest but a massive yawn betrayed him.  
"Run tomorrow?" he asked hopefully, not prepared to let her go without something to look forward to.  
"No," Mac told him, but before he could react she added, "You need your rest. Sleep in and I will be back around half past eleven, with lunch. We can spend the rest of the day together."  
Biting back another yawn Harm nodded. She was right; he could do with some sleep. He rose and walked her to the door. There he wrapped his arms around her once more.  
"See you tomorrow."  
She answered his kiss.  
"See you tomorrow."

The end


End file.
